It began as a deliberate entry into a gaping opening in the side of a low mountain. I could hear water dripping from wet walls and feel the clinging cold dampness of the place. The question I had to face was whether to proceed into this cave. Of course I could not know the end of it without the experience of it, so I decided to enter.

There was a kind of track sloping down, made of natural crushed shale and slippery under my hiking shoes. After finding my balance, down I went, surrounded by a growing opaque darkness. I had no fire or flashlight, just my senses to guide me and my unquenchable curiosity to push me onward.

As I walked deeper into the cave, it became pitch black and I had to give up trying to use my eyes. Without any light to define the surrounding darkness, there was nothing to see. But wait, that’s when I “saw” a new kind of light, surreal, somewhat as depicted in Kirlian photographs. I could see without seeing! I could now step forward and down with greater confidence. The water still dripped from the black walls and I could see it glistening on the ceiling.

There was a warm dankness about the place and I smelled an unpleasant odor. At this point the eerie lighting showed me a small tunnel branching off on the right. I walked to its entrance and saw a dry surface leading upward. It had an easy walking surface, no loose rocks or shale, just flat grey rock.

Choice. Should I take this inviting tunnel, or keep on the downward journey of the other one? Something within me reasoned this drier tunnel would be a dead end, or take me back up and out the other side of the mountain. I chose to continue down the original cave, ever deeper under the mountain. That’s when I realized I had passed my first test.

I continued to question the purpose of this weird quest and who had carved these tunnels, and why? Where was the King under the Mountain? Where was the sound of hammers as Dwarves carved out the hard black rock to find their precious stones, their silver and gold?

“What will I find in the tunnel?” asks Luke Skywalker of Yoda. “Fear” he replied. “Your greatest fear. Do not take your weapons down there, they will only contribute to your downfall.” But the young, the rash, the foolish seldom listen to the voice of experience and wisdom. He went fully armed into the tunnel to be confronted by his arch-enemy, Darth Vader. They fought. Luke won and cut Vader’s head off. When he looked into the terrible mask, his own face stared back at him. Fear gives birth to anger, anger to hate and hate to death. There is no escape. The undisciplined, un-empowered overconfident self is always our own worst enemy.

My fear of what lay ahead became palpable. I sensed a ‘Something’ not alive as we understand the concept and I knew it was lurking further down. It had eyes that could see the minutest details in the dark; that could see into the heart and find every weakness, every frailty, every shadow, every dark, hidden corner where residues of resentment, shame and guilt are stored. That is what it wanted to feast upon. It was starving for an orgy on human sin.

I knew then it would never let me leave this place, even if I turned and tried to run back up the way I’d come. This was its world or perhaps better put, an underworld. There were hidden passages I sensed as flow of air coming from the sides of the cave. It used these as shortcuts to waylay any creature that wandered this far.

If we intend to walk the darkness of the underworld we must not carry darkness within our mind-heart. Only the pure of heart can pass unmolested to enter the sacred place of sacrifice. Yes, that’s what had drawn me down this corridor of non-time. I remembered what came at the end of this place: sacrifice and redemption. I understood fully why the beast or beasts, for I now sensed many, waylaid me. If I passed, I would have a clear conscience and they would be defeated, left starving. Thus I would be permitted to offer myself as a sacrifice upon the altar of fire at the end of this journey and in doing so I could call upon the great forces of spirit to grant my one wish. If I passed.

They knew. And they came upon me to find my darkness; to feed on my fear, for fear is darkness. I am so close to being devoured here. I have no weapon with which to ward these starving demons. I have no protection. There is no place to turn, not even against a wall – they are all around me, salivating, snarling, growling. “Give in to your fear… give in and hate me with all the passion that is within you. Anticipate the pain you are going to endure when my poisoned fangs sink into your flesh, and scream your rage!”

This is when I found some of my power. “Peace!” I said to myself, I came to this place, to confront my fear and not to give in to it. To test my resolve since that day long ago when I had made a decision and chosen my own name. Shalom Tara! I closed my eyes and slowly sank upon the rough floor. Beings of light completed this vision then, approaching and taking my hands, helping me to stand and leading me through the rest of the way.

Dreams and visions. They come to those who seek them; who seek understanding in all the places where society, civilization, the System, the Status Quo or “The Matrix” insist there can be no understanding except through blind belief and blind obedience. It insists that everyone must follow the pattern laid out by the Powers that Be, from “God” on down. Anyone can own a piece of the puzzle if that piece is handed down from those in authority. If it isn’t then it’s illegitimate, illegal, blasphemous, immoral – take your pick: you are not supposed to have it and must destroy it, or hand it back to the authorities to be destroyed (or hidden in their underground vaults). If you insist on keeping unauthorized information you place yourself in danger of the “Inquisition” – and be certain that said Inquisition exists within every form of totalitarian power, whether it be religious, scientific, academic, political or financial. Those who have stood against the Inquisition know what I’m writing about. Take Galileo; Julian Assange, Joan of Arc, Salman Rushdie, Chelsea Manning… and speaking of “whistleblowers” – check out the list on Wikipedia. So many others who spent their lives in prison, were executed and tortured to death because they held to a truth that was denied by the System. Also, if the subject interests you, read up on how the biblical prophets were treated in their days as they pointed out the error of the ways of Israel… errors which caused many a terrible conquest and diaspora; errors which are being repeated today by that same nation and which will have the same ends, for ways not changed means of certainty that history must repeat itself for Earthian humanity.

World Bridger (a vision) (from the files of ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara)

In the darkness, I heard a deep voice echoing. It said: “You are Tara, daughter of Earth, you are a Planet Bridger…” As I peered into the dark, which was the dark of space, I saw two planets orbiting. Then the voice continued: “In the depths of space, two twin worlds move slowly towards each other through the eons of time… Soon they will come close enough to each other for a bridge to be formed…”

I looked at these two twin worlds. One was pristine, beautiful, green, lush, full of life. Its waters were blue and clear. Everywhere was a sense of pure joy. The other was the opposite: it was blighted, polluted, desecrated. Smoke swirled around it, and on its surface people ran here and there aimlessly. There were wars being fought, and famine was rampant. There were plagues and diseases of all kinds. Pain, misery and death marked the passage of time there…

When these two worlds approached one another, at some perfect timing, a ball of reddish/golden light appeared between the two planets. Inside this ball of light was a being apparently sleeping. Then, I found myself there: I was that being, Tara, the Bridger. I awakened from my sleep and began to stretch myself. As I did so, I emerged from the ball of light and it vanished.

In space, I stretched my feet towards the pristine world and I saw them enter the soil and become a part of the landscape. I could feel the well-being of it, the invitation to share in its bounty. I stretched my head to the wrecked and wretched planet, and when I touched it, my hair, which flowed in abundance, entered that soil like millions of roots, and I became a part of that world. I felt the burning of it, an unwholesome uncomfortable feeling within my head.

Now, there was a bridge between two worlds. Soon, people from the blighted world began to walk upon my flesh; to wonder at, to ponder, this phenomenon. Some, recognizing the bridge, gave thanks and in gratitude, quickly made their way to the waiting Edenic world. Most, sadly, were afraid of the consequences of trusting in this new thing, and chose to just wander around a bit, then returned to their miserable existence. Another type of human came to explore my body: the ‘gold diggers” or resource seekers . These brought the same tools they had been using to destroy their planet. They proceeded to cut up my flesh, looking for treasure. Finding nothing of interest to their blighted senses, they too returned to their world to continue in their pointless existence.

In time, when the two worlds were again beginning to orbit apart, all those who were upon my body left. Most opted to remain on their old world, afraid of the future presented to them. They could not believe that this new world was ‘real’.

When I was completely clear of traffic, of human life, I pulled myself free of the old world. My hair tore out of my head and remained in the soil there. I pulled my legs away from the new world, and my feet remained in that soil. I rolled myself into a ball… and died… or so it seemed. I became non-living, in the sense that we know it. My body also vanished in space. Then the voice came back and said: “In time, when this cycle is complete, you will again return to bridge these two worlds, for you are infinite, you are life.”

By choice, and by whatever means given us over time upon time, some of us become world bridgers. Our calling and our choice may never be known by anyone, but as my “new age” friends were fond of mentioning, we are anchors. By our presence and by our thoughts we “anchor” certain energies within worlds and these places of power often remain untapped for millennia. Then we come back and we find these ancient treasures that belong to us, and we learn how to use them and expand them. Sometimes they can give us enough power to rise up into public awareness and create waves of changes. Think Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr. – individuals with charisma, with the power of compassion: such doesn’t just happen, nor does it happen overnight. Long, long planning and many lives go into building such awareness. Does it make any difference? It can, for those who observe, listen and act on their own wisdom as the above vision demonstrates.

You’re in the twenty-first century, son:don’t bother looking up, there’s nothing to see.Keep your head down and another laced cookiewill reshape the world differently, no needto lift your eyes, there’s nothing to see,is there. Vacant eyes studying the rug:perfect pose for the occasion.

Everything that’s shopped forgets carted away in stretching plastic bagsunder sagging shoulders and drizzly clouds.You’ve seen it a million times, or you’d haveif you’d ever opened your eyesbeyond the keyboard. But hey, forget it,never mind that, I can wax philosophicalat the most inauspicious moments.

It’s all completely meaningless, isn’t it,a happy meaninglessness created just for you.Don’t let me spoil your high. Build it up,your high school reunion is tonight. Notall of ‘em are dead yet if they’re stillon Facebook. Was I talking aboutglobal warming, or warning? Maybe.

Maybe it’s a train; maybe it’s the rain,that clatter, maybe it’s your pain.But what does it matter to yousitting there not knowing why, or where?You’ll get through it, son, you will.You’re special, like everybody else anddeath is there for you too, so don’t worrythere’s always somebody who caresenough to put you in the stretchy plastic bagafter being photo-shopped for; afteryour environmental fee is duly paid.